To link to the entire object, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed the entire object, paste this HTML in websiteTo link to this page, paste this link in email, IM or documentTo embed this page, paste this HTML in website

5 1 T a m ils N e io s p a p f t ; JD cooted to J p o titic s , i t t ie t e i l t t g , A g r ic u ltu r e . n u lJ @ fu c r a l J n tc ilig c iu c .
f f . r . * e . H. B JL O W L N , P r a p r i c t o n i . flEtNRY WARD, Editor.—TeriBS--$l,25 Per Abbubt.
VOLUME 3 “ N0. 16. LITCilFIELI), (CUNN.) UCTOBEK 11, 1849. WHUj.E M). m -
iSnsineas tHarbs.
O U V E R A. G-. TODS,
A tto rn e y & C o u n se llo r a t liaw ,
^ F F I C E n^xt buiiding south of the Mansion
FI >ase, op staun».
LUek/SeU, J p r i im . 1848. iy42
0
H B N R Y B . 0 R A V £ S ,
I T T O R N E Y AT L A W ,
^ L IT C H F IE LD , CONN.
«Tcr Dr. Buel’s Store, recently occn-the
late Gen’l B a (^ .
J- -V ■' ^ _______
- T B E O D O R E & E L 1 4M S C ,
&> Coiii|!«etior a t l<aw.
KENT. CONN. 10
H E N R 7 I. FU L L E R ,
A tto rn e y A C o u n se llo r a t
JUiiteuMoier «f Bndi to H. I. Skte,
South KaU, Com.
^ GSSOfiGB W . P S E T
Att«em#y I t C ounM lter ait la a w
N o ta ry Pi^blte*
t a Am m n d lO lM X iM Mik J N *
Sowtk Cmumtt CL .
Tmaw wiU«ttet»4 nwi ^ y f ^Si
tmsttd to www eeiwfwt.
Mamayiie, Wiseomtm, Dtc. ! » * . IMS.
fnYsieuf i An§ s f t t i f n:
g F4CE«»ver BoWaWeHs* «*«*.«• the roboM
l ^ l b n w ^ occupied by Dr. J . 8. Wofaatt 80
G . c i. B JS 8 E I .1 ., M* o . ,
P k y s l e l i i l i f t t t t ^ g e o n ,
.« e U i l « w , C t.
43tf O rricx 9wmm. rmtt P o rr-O ir* !^
B LA K E ,
|)oetrn.
The following Terses were written b j Lydia
J . Gardner, of West Cornwall, only 12 years
of age. Their artless symplicity is ja s t what
might be expectcd from a w riter of so tender
an age.
For the RepuhJican.
Sweet Home.
Oft have I plucked the pretty flowers,
T h at grew around our garden bowers ;
And many pleasant hoars I ’re spent.
In roaming gaily as I wont.
Oft hare I culled the violet blue.
The piiik and rose, all bright with dew*
While walking ’round th6 field so gay.
Upon a pleasant summer’s day.
Aiid oh ! how sweet ’twould seem to me,
T« r«st beneath yon maple tree !
Sarr*«B<l»d by my friends so dear,
W k ^ my B^eei komm is ^«Mn>iig near^
JkM ia i m tk SMahfook a ad t ill,
1f h >a> M clear ana still,
B sw s a iy l» « r« IhftT* pu»ed away,
la sttashim* throuffa the fleeting day !
A lii iMhw the birds a roand me sing
TlMir swMtwt 4ong« of joy is Spring,
Tbei« I h a re eatlkom day to day.
To hear th eir sweet, nelodioos l i^ .
And once I spied a little nest,
B«d wai the robin’s downy brettst ;
Sotfie e#oel boyi^I heard one«ay.
Had stole h e r p re tty eggs awaj.
O my sweet Home, I love thy b ow e ri;
O th a t I s till m ^ ^ ^ t h e r flowers.
That round thy sa ilin g meadows grow.
Where shady trees witli sun-light glow !
’ Twas b itte r g rief for me to p a rt
From th a t sweet homot dear to my heart,
And to another worse one ro am ;
Farewell ! my sweet, my long-lost home !
OFFICit. M rJLti' JJUOUS W ji^ r OF THE
COUNTY ROUSE.
Litch^dd, June 27. 1840. 1
C . fU. H O O K E R j
flESIDENT DENTIST
JfiK fav Me Tb^ Chaplet
'Weave,
-J-AY
becMwulted AT all t im e s , (nnlefS
nrolraiionallv absent,) ai hi* O F F IC E
- --------------- <»VER “ T H E VARIET
liitdifeJii^ April 8,1849.
■s t o r e .'*
41
j r . D A Y T O N ,
B Z A K U F A C T a& S K O F
8KAFHLVES & pSiOSEOKS,
WOLCOXTVUJiB, CT.
M. B.—Oreans,aitdPiano'Pi
^ n e d aitd repaired. ..
Wotefttvin€,Mas9,\949» i»r.
Bwdcs, Periodiet#) &e.
Th e SuWriber continues to express
n»«1 and otherwise, alt orders for Books, Peri
ndicais. E n erav in ^, Music, &c-,a<ldi«ss^ to him,
al 156 NaMBtu street. New York. He f^^liisliei:
CauiojEoes «<f Standard Works, and the latest
piMi<«tiot»s of tlie d ay,front which, selectionscan
be made, and to which he will annex the prices at
v h id i be will supply t* em. Much time and labor.
Is thus saved by purchasers, who are assured that
be will furnish them a t the Publishers’ Jowest rates.
j)aOw|a»»,poei paid, ittende^toafusdBl, with prompt-
" itade and dispatch. ^
i a r Libraiians, Titachert a«*^well as indi-vid
«ai% w iy ^ d it convenient and.4 iO|j^ei/interest
• «ddrew ^
W I L L I A l » A T j » f ,
156 Nesstm streetjJ0k Tork.
F#r
For me, O world ! no cliaplet WMve,
Thy frown I fear not, nor brfieve
Thy wanton smiles, and summer glow.
Deceptive as retiring snow;
F o r me, thy grandeur’s all too high.
And danger lurks its steps too nigh.
Then not for me thy chaplet weave.
F or ail thy pleasures b u t deceive.
L et beauty with its eye of firo.
With maddening love the gay inspire;
Let War, in panoply arrayed,
Unsheathe the chieftain’s ready blade ;
Let Glory re a r its plumed crest.
And dazxle with its glittering vest.
Yet not for me thy chaplet weave.
Thy smiles are liaise, thy hopes deceive.
Let the full cup of pleasure teem
With draughts from fair Calypso’s stream,
Whiefa shrouds the soul’s immortal flame.
Beneath tlie brute’s degraded frame;
T h o n i^ fa ir the flowers that here entice,
AH,'nii4jpo«oetly is the price.
Saoh t ia ^ le t , therefore, do not ireave^
'lEby flowers decay, the dranghts deceive.
Nor weave for me Ambition’s wreath.
I t is the bloodylmecd oT d e a tii;
Asp-like, foul murder nestles there.
Entwined with folds ol grim despair !
And.oh ? weave not the wreath th a t binds
The b^ews of sordid, selfish minds ;
Like Uiosi entwine no wreaths for me.
They show too much, o world, of thee !
Nor the bright wreath of riches twine,
Dug from Golconda’s purest mine ;
Nor dazzling stones th a t proudly gem
An empire's envied diadem.
No ; twine for me the Christian’s crown.
T hat findes not ’mid thy wintey frown ;
And let the wreath th a t deekts my brow.
From i»ure Religion’s branches grow.
which, (as usual,) she was extremely anx-ioii.
s to alteiid, and not only this, but he had
griven her to understaud, that, as he was a
very domestic man, she was henceforth, to
Miteiid fewer parties—to be seen less fre­quently
at concerts, operas, &c., and, as she
valued their • mutual happiness,’ there was
to be nothing more said about this party in
particular. ^
What wonder,' then, niat Mrs. Russell
had pronounced such interdiction • barba­rous’
and ‘ unheard of,’ and even gone so
fHr as to wish she had never married ‘ such
a man !’
This was the case, and it was this that
had sent the husband in search of a more
quiet and less annoying place than his
home had proved to be that night,
One word had brought on another, and
with Mrs. Kusselt’s wish that she had found
some one more congeinal to her tastes, the
husband quietly arose, took his hat, and po­litely
told her to ^ find some one
Two hours had passed, and ^ clock
struck ten, and Mis. Russell, with swollen
eyes, atid shivering form for she couclutled
such a wretch of a mun wasn’t wflrlh free­zing
herself to * d ^ h Tor. She drew the
easiest of the two eaiiy chairs to the st6ve
and sat down very hau^tily, as though she
were confering a great honor on the room
by e^nting it her presence.
And no wonder that men, hairassed with
business perplexites which we of the weak­er
sex know nothing ai'out, turn with sick
hearts and disappointed hopes from their
wives selfishly seeking their own gratifica­tion,
without regard to the wishes or com­fort
of their husbands.
Now if Mr Russell had only managed a
little differently, his wife, however contra­ry
to her wishes, could not have done oth­erwise
than accede to his request. Oh, if I
had been a man, 1 should have been a mod­el*—
a most perfect specimen—and my wife
should do, everything I wished her to do,
and still not dream but that she was exer­cising
her own will, and uncontrolled and
tmbiased. Now don’t you wish I would
explain ? Bttt no, I have made too much
of digression already.
An hour passsed on, and the hands of
the time piece pointed to 11. Her coun­tenance
had changed during that hour—
the expression of haughty anger had given
place to a resigned look, ar
£
and 1 think, if Mr.
htjra
said. ‘ Edward, you have bfeen very uhkiiid
to me, but I will forgive you this once, if
you will promise me to go to that party
but he did not come, and the lady went on
thinking, and the watch went on ticking
until the hands pointed to 1 2 ..
Then the little lady arose, and the resign­ed
expression had given pluce to a very anx­ious,
loving look. She paced the appart-ment
slowly, with her hands clasped, and
a tear now and then falling from her heav- ry altered so tiiuch thKyot, have not one
enly blue eyes.- i S""*® of recogtiuton for hun ?
If Mr. Russell
took hold of her hand to lecid her into the
httle snti^ery, when a smart blow across
the motith with the other hand, reminded
him of the propriety of keeping at ,a dis­tance.
‘1 beg your pardon, lady : I meant no
offence.’ said the stranger, with a good-na-tured
smile, as he threw off the Spanish
cloak aiid cap that had almost hid his per­son
and face from view, and disclosed the
figure and countenance of an elegantly for­med,
and noble-featured young man. and
not over twenty-five. There was a quiet
humor resting in the large, dark eye, and a
half smile hovering about the moustached
lip, that told how capitally the stranger was
enjoying the countenance and dilated pu­pils
of Mrs. Russel’s eyes, which showed
the passing moments to be hours of agony
to her.
Still, the two looked as if made for each
other, an^ltbough their complexions were
so different—he so bronzed and she so fair
— hey'^^Vere not unlike in features. The
stranger broke the siience-—
‘ My name is Henry—yours is Bertha,
think.’
This ^ime, Mrs. Ru^el fixed her eyes on
his, nodded assent, and turned away with a
sigh.
* I think we are not unlike, Bertha,’ con­tinued
the stranger; ‘ that is, I think our
tastes will be more congenial than yours
and your husband’s are. 1 am very fond
of gaiety, and not at all ^ven to a doihes-tic
hfe. i f ypu would like to come and
live with me, 1 will promise to devote eve­ry
evening to amusement, and we will suit
ourselves, and leave this hum-drum husband
of your’s to aiiiuse himself in his own way.
You are very handsome, to my thinking,
and I am willing to make the arrangement
-—what say you, Bertha!’
' My God! this is to much,’ exclaimed
Mrs. Russell, as she arose from iier
seat.
The stranger would have stopped her
but before he divined her purpose, she had
opened, the door—closed it and turned the
key upon him. At the same time a merry
laugh from within, and a wild shriek from
without, rang through the house, and Ber­tha,
exfiavisted with those hours of watrhr
ing, saiik lifeleM in her fright upon the
stairs. - ^ ;
' My ht^band—my husband was it a
' ^ ‘S ^ . i s M i r i n ' i e r t n r » n ’.i m- a ^ Sia i r
turned the key of the door, and there before
them still ^ o d the stranger—his face-rather
more’demurVthan it was when Bertha lock­ed
him in. \
Mrs. Russeir^ whole form quivered, and
she clung to her husband with a tighter
grasp. The stranjger stepped closer to them
and bending his heW, said, in a changed
voice, ‘ Bertha, has jVur own brother Har-grees,
perhaps, I shall become leaS averse to
an occasional evening out, a!id you, ns you
seethe folly and heartless of the woild, will
learn to prize your own home more, aud be­come
more domestic.’
Mr. Russel was right; for never again
did Bertha seek her own' pleasure in pre­ference
to her husband's ; or rather, what
constituted her husband’s happiness, seem­ed
also to soustitute her’s. *
I know not whether it was the fright ot
the evening, or whether the spirits in those
moments of unconsciousness, saw in the
husband’s heart, such overflowings of love,
that she could not do aught but devote her­self
to one who loved'her so fondly.
He this as it may, Bertha Russell ever
afterwards, made a most domestic, loving
little wife.
wondrous mystic stream flowing from Thy
precious side! ^ ,
I hear 'I'hy expiring groan! Univer-
Siil n.iiure heareth it and standeth aghast ?
The uliVighted sun veils in thick darkness
his extinguished splendor! The earthsha-keth
exceedingly I The mountains trem­ble
with fear and astonishment I The rocks
are leiit, the graves are opened, the dead
arise, and the day is turned into night, for
the light of ihe woild ceaseth !
Sinner! it was thy God who thus suf­fered
in thy nature,.ihat thou mightest par--
take of Hi.s. and not die .death eternah
Sinner ! His name is Jesus.
For thee He took that name, that-oHe
mi^ht save thee from thy sins, that He»
might redeem thee from the wraSh BT'thef
Father, and become thy propitiation and
ransom.
R e d em p t io u . Adore and wonder; be humble and fear }
Be humble, ye high hills -,’bow your lof- ^hall thy bosom feel the di^viue ray,and
ty tops, ye towering cedars; hide your
heads, ye dwellings of the proud ; peace ye
winds ; be still, ye waves ; silence, ye roar­ing
tempests, aud rocking whirlwinds!
Doth not awful silence well become you.
while we speak of the wonderful agony of
our God f
Silsnt and abashed ye were when He
suffered; now attend, while & sinner hears
the glad tidings, while the voice of great
joy breaks into his heart, aud into the
house of mourning.
Behold that cross ! Lift up thine eyes
add wonder—son (J* man, behold and adore.
Was ever goodness like the goodness of
thy God ? Was ever mercy like His
mercy ? Was ever sorrow like His sor­row
? Listen and be siieni. Abominate
thyself, and cleave to thy Redeemer.
Lo, yonder He is stretched!—lo, ypnder
He bleeds !—lo, yonder he hangs on the ac­cursed
tree!—the son of God ! the meek,
the mild, the blessed Jesus ! a horrid spec­tacle,
between earth and heaven !
Even the holy angels hide their heads
and weep.
What then shall man I for whom the
Son of the Almighty is thus raised aloft on
the tree of infamy ! thus stretched o u t!
thus bleeding ! thus expiring in tortures in­conceivable.
and ^ atjoye the reach of hu­man
though ?
His *t<m7 heart
Behold, no .diadem of gold ^Worns ins
Saviour’s head ; no costly jewels sparkle
round His brows! His crown is only a
sharp crown of thorns—his jewels, crim-
1 • ____ ___- •___
thy tieart burn with new comforts.
Sinner I His name from nil eternity is
Jehovah ; lor thee He submitted to be cal­led
Saviour. • -» • • .■ •
Oh, rejoice that Jehovah is- thy strength
and support: sins^ wii|^ the voice of sweet­est
melody, “ Jehovah is niy Jestis and Re­deemer.”
Meditate hereon, and be meek ; look on
that cross, and learn, if thou canst fathom
its dr'pth, whence such love to thee.
Let the name of Jesus obtain a place,
and dwell in thy heart. T h y .fears. will
then vanish, as the early dew before the
sun ; thou shalt find peace.
A Breakfast in (-alifornia.
Mr. Freauer writes the following to the
Picayuve :
I was very much amused in a restaurant
a few days since, at a stout, able-^died fel­low,
who had just arrived from the States’
across the mountains. He was dre sed in
buckskin breeches, cloth pea-jcaket, worn
out fashionable vest buttoned up to the
chin, a slouched hat and a red sh i^ none
the better for two months wear. He wal­ked
into the room with an air of confidence
seated himself aton§^ of the little tables in
a style and manner that showed ho was not
an entire stranger to the good thii\gs of the
world, which’ are sbnie^me* fctand at a
\ W W S B , out-b«ildin|r«
A TW O ACRES of •«
VBOCrKCT ST*M5T, < b a ^ ®f the
Cmirt «ooa*,) m Uiia v i lM f a a P ^ ^W i^ i a r r
•mil in snod condition, hjj ^l g j y n -tWMfcw^in 30
mm n . «nd la id f ondenn^^«»wwCT
ieftetidblly situate in a n d ^
mnt pfrt of the tw n , wW« » iw
tfiikesa d Mountains.afid WB^ibal' m ites^ the
ITaiieatiic BsilfUnd.
salabritvor the cUmm, MA-^l^^taatifV
witfc wgwnd f GlwiiLhWj jy M i fnyt CotirtHonsr
mid la il. Jmlie it*«anM4 asirBhie pkc&<br City
n.-io tr io f «^«ad edm ete«li«r^iiiet of
jnistcUmts.
T h e E ip e c t e d a n d t | ^ U n e x p e c te d .
TlMiMh«triber^e^dBa0 MM«r^«>q^ with
liis fimriiy iaio anotiier comly wirtAlcWne**,
T a n i f t r> 8 ^
]|9jM)dred
'm Amtbs frf* eood land,
b niMinn. «<th
By CLARA MpRSTON.
A 4ark, cheerless apartment in a low,
back buildiog used as a sittiog-i^m, car­peted
with a homely imperil, and furnish
ed with a pair of divans, half ia dozen ma­hogany
chain, two of which were remarka­bly
easy, the remaining four as remarkably
lUMasy. Imagine all thisi and youhava
betore you, as near as 1 can give it, the
,4 ^iuinient where Mr. and Mro. Kus^ell had
theif lirBt quarrel.
Two ^ours had passed since they had
left the room, Mr. Russsll, to march down
stain, s i^ bang the street door afterliim,
•nd ii^ better half, to useend the remaiiung
,flight, and weep over her abuses in silence
no doubt they were, and who
dbre to think oUbwwise, when. 1 tall
ite t i lc . RoneU had the aiidMity to
to « p«rt]r»
comes in now, no doubt
she will say, ‘ RIy dear, how very anxious
I have been about you—why did you
stay so late ? 1 don’t think she would
make any allusion to the party now. Again
the watch was drawn from’its hiding place—
the h ands pointed to one.
She threw herself upon the divan, and
burst into tears.
What a pity that tears should dim the
lustre of her eyes I again She sprang
from the lounge to the sitting room door,
for she thought she heard the street door
open, but her fancies had deceived her, and
she went back to her seat again, murmur­ing—
Oh! if he would only come back, 1
would never wish to go away agaiti!—it
was 1 that was to blame! dear, dear Ed­ward
! Where can he be ?’
•Ah! 1 knew it would come to this^—
She really really does look beautitul now,
notwithstanding her Ion g eye-lashes
are bathed in tears, and the hds droop hea­vily
with their weight.’
The watchman cried ‘ past two o’clock,
and now the key turned in the street door,
and now the door opened and shut—she
heard a fpot-fall—another door open and
shut— he not coming to her ?—another
foot-fall, and then a quick succession of
them up stairs. She opened the door, and
in the dim light of the oall, saw a stranger
form ascend the stair-^case. . She woiild;
have screamed, but the power of utterance'
seemed denied her, and like a marble statue
she stood awaiting her fate.
* Mrs. Russell, i presume ?* said the
stranger. The gentlemanly, pleasant way
in which he addressed her, somewhat re­lieved
her extreme fright, and she found
her voice sufficient te enquire i f any acci­dent
had happened to her hujsband.
* Oh, no, madatn, he replied, * I came:on
quite a different errand. I just left ypor
husbandiin very comfortable quarters, where
he will probab]^ remain for the present’—
then, noticiitg her agitation, he added. ‘ bjut
you need net be iii the least alarmed, for I,
can give you the best evidence that he
knows of my visit, and even sent me to
pay ij^ou a cml.* So saying, he produced
the n^h^feey. «t the sight of which. Mn.
Ruasell tui-n^ very, pale, and shuddered
lirom head to foot,
‘ Do not be unnecessarily a^tated, my
dear lady, htjit cotne into this sitting-room
trith me. while Texplain the cause of my
w it-^ n o ^ u b t, ybutlunk i t a very strange
w d tmsrasoijtfble e>ne,*-—Saving which, he
‘ Harry, darling brother Harry, is it pos­sibly
that it is you ?’ and she was clasped to
her brother’s heart—forgetting to chide
him for so cruel y frightening her.
W'hen the excitement of meeting was
over, Harry explained the reason of the
report of his death, by saying it had arisen
from a severe wound he had received from
an Italian bandit, who had succeeded in
seperating him from his "party, and captur­ing
him in hopes of obtaining booty. The
Italian nursed him faithfully during hi^
tedtdus illness.
Although scarely ready to return to
America, he concluded to carry the news
of his resurection himself, and a ter five
years absence from his native country, he
again upon its shores, the expression of his
face so matured, and his complexion so
bronzed, that not even a sister’s love could
penetrate the change.
Then came Mr. Russel’s turn to explain
how he had met him in the Tremont when
the carriages for the night line drove up—
first having seen some baggage marKed
with his name. Then in their walk home.
Mr. Russell, (remembering the last words
his wife said.) in mischievous mood, told
Harry of their little diflerence, and propos­ed
to him to go up to Bertha, and offer an
exchange. He entered' into the plot with
spirit, but not without some slight suspi­cions
that he would be recognized.
And now about the party. Will you be.
lieve me, when I tell you that Mr. and Mr.s.
Russell and Harry Gordon were the liveli­est
of their guests ?
Talk about the fickleness of woman !—
why, it is nothing compared to that of the
sterner sex ; ‘ when woman says she will,
she will, and you may depend on i t ; and
when she says she won’t, she ivon’t, and
there’s the end of it.’
But here was Mr. Russell the morning
after, so positively insisting upon regrets
heine written and sent, now persuadii^ his
wifelo accept, and urging as a reaso^ that
i t would be such a o^ital o p ^ r to
introduce Harry tp, his numerous J^endf
again.
< But,, my d9|tr» I. have too great
for our mutval happiness,* xej '
Russell. .. . .
• Now. BeiH;ha,.thM i« u n k in dw o ii’t
you be satisfied until 1 tell you that I was a
little to falpime last night ? ibr, coming to
think the matter over, I find that we both
shall base- to'make saertfiees occasionally.
Now w»ipdH^ io.thtc party* ftnd hy de>
son rubies of his own most precious blood.
Oh, canst thou contemplate. cold ?
canst thou survey such sufferings and not
pity ? Art thou a man? Art thou a sin­ner?
Canst thou reflect—oh, canst thou re­member.
all, all, is for thee—and still be un­grateful
?
See ! through the crushing sinews of thy
benevolent Redeemer’s tender hand®, the
hardy executioner hath driven the piercing,
sharp-pointed nails !
The blood spring.s forth at each barba­rous
blow, and the triumphant sufferer,
amid such agony, complaineth not ! child
of affliction, wilt thou ever dare to com­plain
? ■ .
Blessing and health fell from those hands
they dropped comfort as the honeyoomb.
Why, O man, art thou an enemv to thy­self
?
Why. hast thou prevented the hours of
thy own felicity ? Why are those hands
transfixed and confined ? Why nailed to
J on ignominious tree, the feet, which, un-wearied,
went about doing good ?
See how the Sovereign Healer of roan-kind—
see how the love of God and man
hangs on those four great wounds.! his
whole body’s weight horribly supported by
the acute agony of those afflicting lacera­tions
!
How can. I,- sinful dust and ashes, how
can I. 0 my Lord, dare to contemplate
Thy wounds and sorrows, without the low­est
prostration of soul and body ? How
can I behold Thee thus suffering, and my
heart not burst at the sight, and rivers ot
tears not gush from my eyes ?
■ Oh ! 1 will love Thee—1 will adore Thee
above all things! Yea, Thy love shall be
the constant meditation of my soul.
Hear, iny soul! for it ia the last voice of
thy expiring Redeemer. Hark, for all na­ture
is silent! and make a solemn pause.
Eloi. Eloi, lama sabacbthani!
Eloi, Eloi, laiuia sabacbthani! What
words can utter that distre^, ‘ or who can
express thy agonies ?
My God! oh! wast Thoti forsaken of
Father? Why* ah. vth^, u n se ^h a
fflM i f l to JB ?
waiter, bring me something to eat.
• Yes sah, yes sah,’ cried a little French­man,
‘ vat you vill hav for eat ?’
‘ Eggs, got any eggs, mutton chop* beef
steak ? beef is good in this country ; veal
cutlets, eh ?’
‘ Yes sah, yes sah, got him all. You
vil have your eggs boil, fry or de omelet
to ?’
• Half a dozen boiled with all the fix*
ings, and a-bottle of wine,’replied our friend
in a stentorian voice that attracked the at­tention
of all the persons piesent.
Away went the Frenchman with ‘ yes
sah.’ thinking no doabt he had a first rate
customer just from the mines, with his
pockets fil.’a J with dust. In due time came
a breakfast that would hat-e served three
men at least under ordinary circumstances.
Ample justice was done to it, fully confir­ming
our first opinion that the new visitor
had wanted a breakfast more than once
on his route. After he finished he straight-ered
himself up as if to make all possible
rrom for crowding, and demanded what the
bill was.
The Frenchman was in apparent ecstasies
looking over the table and repeating e ^ s ,
beef steak, mutton chop, veal cutlet—ah,
yes, de vine, then summed as a sort oi|g(i^8s
work. ‘ thirteen dollars,'sah !’
‘ Yes my friend,’ says the Frenchman,
thirteen dollars.’
* You don’t call rae your friend,’ replied
the other do you ?*
* Oh, yes, sah. I call all de people my
friend who eat de good breakfast and pay
for him.’
‘ But you are joking about charging th«i
thirteen dollars.’
At this remark the man of the restaur­ant
became somewhat indignant looking all
the characteristics of a man of position,
being proprietor of the principal restaurant
and said : Yes, sah, $13. Yu no eat the
egg fetched from Oregon, de feeef fVom
cross tho bay, de good mutton ^m n Ste-inburger
butcher ^ r my house, de veal
cutlet, the best wine 1 have ; suppose some.>
thing—you no eat de best —ah
de very ‘
Thy'
ble depth of angiuis
“ Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass
by ? Behold aind see. if ever sorrow was
like unto my sorrow, wherewith the Lord
hath tfficted me in the day of his fierce
I” '
._tis long the prophetic voice—here
completion ; here sin and death
§ • triumphant; and here 'Vere- poured
i the last stniggles of mine,
condemned sinner’s soul. ■ ' ; -
My God, it is fini-hedJ i t is & » ^ d !
O my Saviour, why that iast jMMNnng
groan? ! ' : ^
.. I see Thy Ijead ^ i n | | | ^ ^ :^jTiy n ^ d
•bo^m. I «ftg| the
At th's wirauncement the stnmg^TMsed
hitnself up qtiite coolly, and said, ‘ Well
I have eaten a good brakfast,- «id ia «
fart.’ Running Bis hand into Ida buck<.
s'<ins, he pulM out $4 75, looting the
Frenchman steadily in t^& o ft a inoment
' r two, nG’H ig esf a ia ^ the lips of either
He then leisorly^-ptftt^ off his peo-jacket
and laid it o o j^e table—Frenchmaii still
looking tiHring. The stran­ger
tW n ^ hia seedy vest and laid
i^aerdi|( tte 'c o a t. No reply being mad*
fii pff^eame the rid ahii*, and followed
the to i and vest, leaving him a dirty half
worn flannel one. Things now became
exeeedingly interesting. The rwtflnrant
man, evidenUyaKttle
kfint atone and fhen at the

ne,*-—Saving which, he
‘ Harry, darling brother Harry, is it pos­sibly
that it is you ?’ and she was clasped to
her brother’s heart—forgetting to chide
him for so cruel y frightening her.
W'hen the excitement of meeting was
over, Harry explained the reason of the
report of his death, by saying it had arisen
from a severe wound he had received from
an Italian bandit, who had succeeded in
seperating him from his "party, and captur­ing
him in hopes of obtaining booty. The
Italian nursed him faithfully during hi^
tedtdus illness.
Although scarely ready to return to
America, he concluded to carry the news
of his resurection himself, and a ter five
years absence from his native country, he
again upon its shores, the expression of his
face so matured, and his complexion so
bronzed, that not even a sister’s love could
penetrate the change.
Then came Mr. Russel’s turn to explain
how he had met him in the Tremont when
the carriages for the night line drove up—
first having seen some baggage marKed
with his name. Then in their walk home.
Mr. Russell, (remembering the last words
his wife said.) in mischievous mood, told
Harry of their little diflerence, and propos­ed
to him to go up to Bertha, and offer an
exchange. He entered' into the plot with
spirit, but not without some slight suspi­cions
that he would be recognized.
And now about the party. Will you be.
lieve me, when I tell you that Mr. and Mr.s.
Russell and Harry Gordon were the liveli­est
of their guests ?
Talk about the fickleness of woman !—
why, it is nothing compared to that of the
sterner sex ; ‘ when woman says she will,
she will, and you may depend on i t ; and
when she says she won’t, she ivon’t, and
there’s the end of it.’
But here was Mr. Russell the morning
after, so positively insisting upon regrets
heine written and sent, now persuadii^ his
wifelo accept, and urging as a reaso^ that
i t would be such a o^ital o p ^ r to
introduce Harry tp, his numerous J^endf
again.
< But,, my d9|tr» I. have too great
for our mutval happiness,* xej '
Russell. .. . .
• Now. BeiH;ha,.thM i« u n k in dw o ii’t
you be satisfied until 1 tell you that I was a
little to falpime last night ? ibr, coming to
think the matter over, I find that we both
shall base- to'make saertfiees occasionally.
Now w»ipdH^ io.thtc party* ftnd hy de>
son rubies of his own most precious blood.
Oh, canst thou contemplate. cold ?
canst thou survey such sufferings and not
pity ? Art thou a man? Art thou a sin­ner?
Canst thou reflect—oh, canst thou re­member.
all, all, is for thee—and still be un­grateful
?
See ! through the crushing sinews of thy
benevolent Redeemer’s tender hand®, the
hardy executioner hath driven the piercing,
sharp-pointed nails !
The blood spring.s forth at each barba­rous
blow, and the triumphant sufferer,
amid such agony, complaineth not ! child
of affliction, wilt thou ever dare to com­plain
? ■ .
Blessing and health fell from those hands
they dropped comfort as the honeyoomb.
Why, O man, art thou an enemv to thy­self
?
Why. hast thou prevented the hours of
thy own felicity ? Why are those hands
transfixed and confined ? Why nailed to
J on ignominious tree, the feet, which, un-wearied,
went about doing good ?
See how the Sovereign Healer of roan-kind—
see how the love of God and man
hangs on those four great wounds.! his
whole body’s weight horribly supported by
the acute agony of those afflicting lacera­tions
!
How can. I,- sinful dust and ashes, how
can I. 0 my Lord, dare to contemplate
Thy wounds and sorrows, without the low­est
prostration of soul and body ? How
can I behold Thee thus suffering, and my
heart not burst at the sight, and rivers ot
tears not gush from my eyes ?
■ Oh ! 1 will love Thee—1 will adore Thee
above all things! Yea, Thy love shall be
the constant meditation of my soul.
Hear, iny soul! for it ia the last voice of
thy expiring Redeemer. Hark, for all na­ture
is silent! and make a solemn pause.
Eloi. Eloi, lama sabacbthani!
Eloi, Eloi, laiuia sabacbthani! What
words can utter that distre^, ‘ or who can
express thy agonies ?
My God! oh! wast Thoti forsaken of
Father? Why* ah. vth^, u n se ^h a
fflM i f l to JB ?
waiter, bring me something to eat.
• Yes sah, yes sah,’ cried a little French­man,
‘ vat you vill hav for eat ?’
‘ Eggs, got any eggs, mutton chop* beef
steak ? beef is good in this country ; veal
cutlets, eh ?’
‘ Yes sah, yes sah, got him all. You
vil have your eggs boil, fry or de omelet
to ?’
• Half a dozen boiled with all the fix*
ings, and a-bottle of wine,’replied our friend
in a stentorian voice that attracked the at­tention
of all the persons piesent.
Away went the Frenchman with ‘ yes
sah.’ thinking no doabt he had a first rate
customer just from the mines, with his
pockets fil.’a J with dust. In due time came
a breakfast that would hat-e served three
men at least under ordinary circumstances.
Ample justice was done to it, fully confir­ming
our first opinion that the new visitor
had wanted a breakfast more than once
on his route. After he finished he straight-ered
himself up as if to make all possible
rrom for crowding, and demanded what the
bill was.
The Frenchman was in apparent ecstasies
looking over the table and repeating e ^ s ,
beef steak, mutton chop, veal cutlet—ah,
yes, de vine, then summed as a sort oi|g(i^8s
work. ‘ thirteen dollars,'sah !’
‘ Yes my friend,’ says the Frenchman,
thirteen dollars.’
* You don’t call rae your friend,’ replied
the other do you ?*
* Oh, yes, sah. I call all de people my
friend who eat de good breakfast and pay
for him.’
‘ But you are joking about charging th«i
thirteen dollars.’
At this remark the man of the restaur­ant
became somewhat indignant looking all
the characteristics of a man of position,
being proprietor of the principal restaurant
and said : Yes, sah, $13. Yu no eat the
egg fetched from Oregon, de feeef fVom
cross tho bay, de good mutton ^m n Ste-inburger
butcher ^ r my house, de veal
cutlet, the best wine 1 have ; suppose some.>
thing—you no eat de best —ah
de very ‘
Thy'
ble depth of angiuis
“ Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass
by ? Behold aind see. if ever sorrow was
like unto my sorrow, wherewith the Lord
hath tfficted me in the day of his fierce
I” '
._tis long the prophetic voice—here
completion ; here sin and death
§ • triumphant; and here 'Vere- poured
i the last stniggles of mine,
condemned sinner’s soul. ■ ' ; -
My God, it is fini-hedJ i t is & » ^ d !
O my Saviour, why that iast jMMNnng
groan? ! ' : ^
.. I see Thy Ijead ^ i n | | | ^ ^ :^jTiy n ^ d
•bo^m. I «ftg| the
At th's wirauncement the stnmg^TMsed
hitnself up qtiite coolly, and said, ‘ Well
I have eaten a good brakfast,- «id ia «
fart.’ Running Bis hand into Ida buck